


Pseudo-Suit Fedora

by WordsAblaze



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Neal Caffrey, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Protective Mozzie, Rescue, Worried Peter Burke, badass mozzie, but not for long, everyone loves neal caffrey, rated teen bc i'm a little paranoid, worried Mozzie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAblaze/pseuds/WordsAblaze
Summary: A sting goes wrong and Neal goes missing but nobody gets away with that kind of thing, not if Mozzie has anything to say about it...
Relationships: Diana Berrigan & Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke & Mozzie (White Collar), Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey & Mozzie, Peter Burke & Mozzie, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 128





	Pseudo-Suit Fedora

**Author's Note:**

> I love this show. So much. And naturally, it had to be my first fic of the year ;)
> 
> Just a heads up: it's not exactly Peter-friendly, but that's because it's heavily Mozzie's POV and yaknow....

Everything soured when they found the fedora. 

Not that there's anything wrong with fedoras, they're a very stylish hat. 

But usually, fedoras are only seen on Neal Caffrey's head, not lying discarded in the corner of a dilapidated warehouse. 

A warehouse that Peter had sent Neal into.

Without a wire.

Because this was meant to be a quick and easy undercover operation in which nobody got hurt and they were done in time for El's lasagne. 

"Oh, Neal…" Peter breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"I don't understand where they could have gone, we had all the exits covered," Diana says as she walks up to him, the two of them staring at the hat. 

"Neal would know," Peter replies, wishing he didn't sound so wistful. 

"Neal did know," a familiar and clearly bitter voice behind them adds. 

Peter and Diana turn to see Jones shrugging sheepishly and Mozzie glancing around as if he knows the place like the back of his band. 

"Mozzie? How did you-?" 

Mozzie holds up a hand and silences Peter, walking over to a mouldy wall and tapping seemingly random spots. 

He remembers Neal explaining the layout and weaknesses of the warehouse, remembers forcing Neal to tell him every single detail, just in case. 

Within a minute, the wall creaks and reveals a doorway, a doorway that reeks of blood yet to dry. 

Fury builds inside Mozzie until he feels like he can't breathe. 

It’s Neal’s. 

Neal's  _ blood _ .

Apparently, the sting had gotten way out of hand and the FBI, the cursed Suits, had been able to do absolutely nothing to protect Mozzie's best friend. 

The suits had turned his best friend into some kind of pseudo-suit and, for one reason or the other, left him unprotected. 

And now Neal is out there somewhere, hurt and alone and vulnerable and  _ bleeding _ . 

Peter seems to realise that Mozzie is scheming because he clears his throat awkwardly. "Mozzie, we didn't think-"

Once again, he's cut off by Mozzie, this time with a glare sharper than any Peter has seen before. 

"You, Suit, need to remember that Neal might not hold you accountable for his injuries but I am counting every single misfortune my client has endured at your hands and, in my legal opinion, it is not looking good for you."

And with that, he's gone. 

Leaving Peter, Diana, and Jones with both confusion, regret, and a hint of awe. 

Dimly, Peter wonders why Neal knew about the secret exit and chose not to tell him.

And then there's a blur of agents checking the exit out, predictably finding nothing, and closing the area off before everyone heads back to the office. 

He knows he spends too long staring at the fedora they’d had to bad as evidence but he doesn't really register anything, not even Hughes asking him why everything went so wrong, until he gets home and sees El waiting for him with a sad smile. 

"Mozzie came round," El explains before Peter can attempt to articulate the situation. 

"Hon…"

El shakes her head. "I think you should do what he says on this one, Peter. He seems to know more about your target than you."

Peter pinches the bridge of his nose. "Neal didn't tell me everything…"

Waiting until they're both inside and settled on the couch, El smiles. "We can't attempt to have what Neal and Mozzie have, Hon. They've been working together for far longer than you've known Neal."

Sighing, Peter nods slowly. 

He lets El guide him to the table and they end up eating in silence, the house feeling emptier and lonelier than usual. Even the lasagne seems less exciting than it usually is, and it's not because of any herbs.

Mozzie makes sure he sees Peter and El settle on the couch before he stops spying and goes after Neal. 

Of course, he doesn't know where exactly Neal is. But, judging by the very specific and wholly illegal brand of unbreakable zipties he'd seen shoved into a corner back at the warehouse, he has a pretty good idea. 

And he's right.

His Russian gear and many years of exchanging knowledge with Neal gets him past the security on what seems to be a block of flats in the process of being torn down - It's obviously a cover and not the first time Mozzie has so dearly wanted to discover who's using the place for their own means. 

But not like this.

The inside of the building is all but in shambles, with half a staircase here and half a ceiling there. The place is teeming with injuries and infections waiting to happen and Mozzie can’t wait to get out of there again.

"Hang on, Neal," Mozzie breathes as he weaves a path around the cameras - sometimes it's good being short enough to stay within blind spots.

The ground floor is empty so he makes his way up to the first floor - embodying the exact opposite of graceful - and takes a second to catch his breath. Just as he's wishing his front man could have been here, he hears a muted cry. 

"Neal!" Mozzie hisses to himself, immediately recognising his best friend and following the sound. 

He ends up outside the only room that has more than half a door left - it's still not a proper door though, so Mozzie can peer through the cracks and see what’s happening inside. 

He'd usually pride himself on being a man of composure but his breath hitches in his throat when he sees Neal. 

Neal is kneeling on the floor, his hands tightly ziptied together with another ziptie looped through that one, connected to a pipe that seems to have escaped from the plaster in the wall.

His head is dropping forwards but he can't sit down because his arms are being pulled up over his head, his shirt and trousers halfway to soaked with blood. He's breathing heavily and, even from a distance, Mozzie can tell Neal's ribs are bruised, if not worse. 

As he watches, Neal looks up, his gaze flickering to him briefly and something like a warning flashing in his eyes. 

Then Neal’s being punched and his head is thrown to one side as he groans, glaring up at the man who inconveniently obscures Mozzie's view. 

“Eyes on me, traitor,” the man snarls.

It gives Mozzie only the slightest sliver of relief that Neal’s cover is still intact because that means they can still use the alias another time. As long as they can get Neal out of this alive. 

“What… what’re… you gonna do… about it?” Neal asks, defiance shining beautifully in his eyes.

Mozzie smiles despite himself. 

Neal groans.

The smile falters.

He must be more injured than he’s letting on if the man had managed to make him groan by simply nudging him. It’s not looking good for his ribs, then. 

“You can tell me who you’re working for,” the man crouches in front of Neal, grabbing his chin and lifting Neal’s face so they’re eye to eye. 

Mozzie doesn’t hear what Neal whispers but the man hisses in frustration and stands, kicking one of Neal’s knees before storming to one side, giving Mozzie perfect view of the way those ridiculously secure zipties break skin when the pressure falls on Neal’s wrists to keep him steady. 

Neal’s wince is subtle but the pain in his eyes is evident when he looks up to Mozzie and mouths ‘suits’.

He would have tried to argue but the sound of a gun being cocked forces Mozzie to agree with Neal on this one. He throws Neal an apologetic glance before taking a deep breath and enacting half of his escape plan - the other half remains ziptied to a pole. 

Adrenaline and revenge churning in his blood means he gets to the Suits’ house in record time. 

He doesn’t even consider knocking, simply bursts through the door, only half-surprised when he sees Mr and Mrs Suit still awake, clearly waiting for something. Well, time to give them that something, he thinks.

“I found Neal.” 

Peter and El both let out matching sighs of relief. 

El reacts first, her gaze steady. “Off the books?”

“Hon!” Peter protests, but she cuts him off with a single look.

“If Mozzie was forced to leave behind, he’s here for our help. We are not ruining this and putting Neal at risk,” El says confidently. 

Smiling briefly at the thought of having such a firm ally in the world, Mozzie nods grimly. “I need tools for the zipties and I don’t do guns.” 

“Guns?” Peter echoes, a frown forming on his face. 

“Well, I only heard one. But it’s unlikely they would go to so much trouble without at least a few more,” Mozzie explains, having to take a deep breath as he imagines what kind of trouble Neal could be in right now. 

Peter nods, his mind clearly made up. “How much time does he have?” 

“He didn’t look good,” Mozzie replies quietly. 

“Should I call Jones and Diana?” El asks on behalf of Peter, who looks like he’s regretting a dozen life decisions all at once. 

Mozzie hesitates. He’s not sure whether or not Neal would want them there but, realistically, Peter can’t help on his own, especially not when he’s battling with guilt already. 

“But nobody else,” Mozzie warns, wondering how his life got to this point. 

Well, actually, that’s easy: because of Neal.

And that means everything is justified to ensure he makes it out alive. 

El calls Diana as Peter dials for Jones and Mozzie takes that as his cue to gather some tools. “I’ll text you the address and meet you there. Don’t go in before I get there.” 

As if he’s going to let them get there before him.

The Suits nod at him so he takes his leave, heading to June’s place and letting himself into Neal’s apartment, making quick work of packing what he needs and hailing a cab. 

The first cab of several. 

When he climbs into the final cab, he texts Peter, knowing they’ll all be together and en route within seconds. And they must have been, because they arrive there only a minute after he does. 

“Little guy,” Jones greets, nodding at him while Diana does the same.

Mozzie doesn’t bother replying, gesturing for them to follow and leading them to the most stable stairwell. It’s not the one closest to Neal but it’s the one that’ll hold their weight so it’ll have to do. 

“-ready told you… I don’t kn- ow!” Neal’s voice echoes once they get upstairs and Mozzie feels fury curling around his bones again. 

Neal cries out again as they get closer, Mozzie having to swallow his murderous intentions as he peers through the cracked door, seeing only two men inside.

He turns around and holds up two fingers, then mimes a gun. 

The three Suits nod and on the count of three, just as Neal groans weakly, Peter kicks down the door. 

Mozzie makes quick work of kneeling beside his best friend as Jones and Diana subdue the two guys and Peter stands at the door, looking like an awkward bouncer. 

As soon as the zipties are cut and surreptitiously placed in Mozzie’s bag for future research purposes, Neal groans and topples forwards, letting half his weight end up on Mozzie and almost causing them both to overbalance. 

“Thanks, Moz,” Neal murmurs softly, rolling his wrists with a small but unmissable wince. 

“You okay, Caffrey?” Diana asks, genuine concern in her voice as she looks over him, over the blood-stained clothes and growing bruises. 

Neal throws her half a smile and nods. “It’s not my first choice for a vacation but I’ll live.”

And that’s all about Mozzie can handle. 

Because Neal claiming that he’ll live means that he’s in more pain than he’d like to admit and that he’d really just like to get out of his current situation. Which won’t happen if the Suits keep talking. 

“I’m taking Neal home and none of you can stop me without having to explain why you were trespassing,” Mozzie declares, glaring at Peter in particular. 

Peter looks like he’s about to protest but Neal smiles up at him. “I’ll see you at the office, Peter.” 

“No, you won’t,” Diana interjects, raising an eyebrow, “you'll see him on Monday, unless you want to be sent to hospital.” 

“But it’s only Wednesday…” 

“Are you really gonna argue with me, Caffrey?” Diana asks, but not unkindly. She’s almost smiling as she raises an eyebrow, clearly more concerned than anything else. 

Mozzie stops Neal from arguing by standing and pulling him up. Neal wobbles unsteadily before shaking out his legs and clenching his jaw. He lifts a hand as if to fix his fedora but ends up just awkwardly running a hand through his hair instead.

“I’m fine,” he says as he notices the others staring at him.

“Neal…” Peter starts, only pausing when Mozzie shoots daggers at him. 

But Neal takes the role of good cop and smiles again. “How about you help Moz get me back home and we’ll call it even?”

Mozzie won’t admit it but he’s pretty grateful to Neal for being his usual innovative self despite everything and easily solving the problem of trying to get him home when he can barely walk. 

Jones nods at them. “You handle Caffrey and we’ll take these guys in. I’m sure a confession won’t be hard and we can handle Hughes.” 

Only then does Peter nod, slinging one of Neal’s arms over his shoulder as he and Mozzie gently guide Neal down the stairs and outside, where there’s already a cab waiting for them.

The ride to Neal’s place is quiet, filled only by the dull chatter on the radio and Mozzie impatiently drumming his fingers on the cab door. At some point, Neal ends up leaning against Mozzie, which ruins his plan of convincing Peter’s he’s fine but he’s really too tired to care.

“And we’re here!” Mozzie announces once they arrive, gesturing for Peter to pay the driver and carefully maneuvering Neal out, steadying him as he wobbles. 

“June’s place has stairs, doesn’t it?” Neal mumbles, dread evident in his voice. 

Mozzie sighs. 

“Suit, I hate to say it but we require your assistance for a little longer,” he calls.

Peter chuckles but doesn’t hesitate to take the majority of Neal’s weight again, all but carrying him up the stairs and to the bed, where Neal leans back into the cushions with a relieved sigh. 

“Thank you,” Mozzie says as soon as Peter stands up, “you’re free to leave now.”

Peter frowns. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this; I never meant for Neal to get hurt.” 

“I know,” Mozzie replies, and he almost means it.

Almost.

But Peter continues to stand there uncomfortably. “You know I have to…”

Sighing, Mozzie sits down beside Neal, who immediately blinks himself awake and glances around, clearly startled.

“It’s okay, Neal, the Suit just needs to attach your cage back to your leg.” 

Peter visibly winces at the phrasing but Neal nods, stifling a groan as he pulls himself into a seated position and glances expectantly at Peter. 

After Mozzie nods his permission, Peter quickly locks the anklet around Neal’s leg, looking somewhat guilty as he steps back again. “Take all the time you need, Neal.” 

“He will,” Mozzie assures Peter. 

Only when the door has closed behind Peter does Neal let the pain show on his face, exhaling audibly, squeezing his eyes shut, and falling back onto the pillows. “Moz…” 

“I know, mon frère, I know. I’m sorry,” Mozzie whispers, leaving very briefly to retrieve a glass of water and some painkillers. 

“Thanks, Moz” Neal mumbles after a few minutes, once the pain has been slightly dulled. 

Mozzie smiles softly. “I wouldn’t dare to leave at a time like this.” 

Grinning sleepily, Neal yawns before promptly frowning at the glass now sitting on the bedside table. “Did you…” 

“Add something to the water to help you fall asleep? Yes, of course. You’re welcome.” 

Neal makes a face but it’s not the first time and he knows Mozzie means well so he lets it slide, simply placing a hand on Mozzie’s arm and smiling up at him. “Stay?”

Now that, that has Mozzie’s pessimistic heart softening like wax near a flame. 

“Didn’t you hear what I said? I wouldn’t dare leave.” 

The ‘you’ at the end of that sentence goes unspoken but Neal smiles anyway, his eyes bright and happy as if he’d heard it loud and clear. Which he has, just not audibly. 

“Appreciated…” Neal murmurs gratefully before his eyelids droop and he falls asleep. 

Mozzie takes a second to mentally note that the drug works a lot quicker on Neal than he’d anticipated before sighing and removing both their shoes, taking it as his responsibility to stay beside his best friend until he wakes up.

Just as he’s done in the past. 

And just as he’ll always do in the future.

They probably need to talk more about their extraction techniques if Neal is going to continue being put in danger due to his job as a pseudo-suit, but that can wait until the bruises fade. 

They’ll also need to go and buy a new fedora - It’s not like Neal’s going to be particularly eager to wear the one he’d lost in the warehouse. Maybe Mozzie can put his own tracking device in the new one. And any others that Neal has in his wardrobe. 

Because Neal might be a pseudo-suit but he was and will always be a fedora first. And although Mozzie would love to cut all ties with suits, he  _ never _ wants to lose his fedora. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not a particularly original or well-developed storyline but it was pretty fun so I hope someone enjoyed it :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave a kudos or comment?


End file.
